Burn: A shifter and vampire rock star romance (Underground Encounters Book 4)

by Lisa Carlisle

  “Because I’ll be with her this time,” Devon interrupted.

  Both Stefano and I slowly looked at Devon as if he’d grown another head. What the hell was he talking about? I’d almost forgotten he was there while I struggled to convince Stefano of my innocence.

  “Excuse me?” Stefano said.

  “What she didn’t have last time was me.” Devon nodded with self-assurance. “I can help her find the money. That’s what I’m good at, tracking things—as well as people—down.”

  “Why would you do that?” Stefano asked.

  Good question. I wondered the same thing.

  “Because if anyone can find the painting or the money, it’s me.”

  What. The. Fuck? The same guy who’d kidnapped me and brought me to Stefano was now volunteering to help me find the money and save my hide. It didn’t make any sense. No sense at all.

  “I paid you to bring her to me.” Stefano’s eyes narrowed as he appraised Devon. “Not to help her find what she stole. Is this some ploy for more money?”

  “I’m not asking for any additional payment,” Devon said. “Just asking for some time.”

  “And what guarantee do I have that you both won’t run as soon as you leave here?” Stefano asked. “She may have offered you a bigger chunk of my money to help her hide.”

  “That wouldn’t make any sense since I brought her back to you tonight. Consider me still on the job. Forget we even came here tonight and just think of it as I’m still bringing Layla back to you. The only difference is that I’m throwing in a freebie by hunting down what was stolen as well.”

  By now my mouth was wide open. What was Devon doing? Had he lost his mind?

  Stefano narrowed his eyes. “I know shapeshifters have their own rules of society, but what you’re proposing doesn’t make a grain of sense. You can leave right now with your money, forget all about this, and go on to the next job. But instead, you’re prolonging this. Why do you care one way or the other? What’s in it for you?”

  Devon shook his head. “Perhaps I’m interested in finding out what happened to the painting. Perhaps I think she deserves a shot at clearing her name. Either way, it feels like the right thing to do.”

  “You don’t have feelings for her, do you?” Then Stefano laughed. “What am I saying? Of course not! A shapeshifter and a vampire? Ha ha ha. As if that even had a chance in hell. Never mind. Stupid question.”

  Were our two species so doomed at the chance of any sort of relationship? Sure, he changed into an animal and I was immortal. But when the heart wants something…

  What was I thinking? I didn’t want him. He was an asshole. One who wronged me. If he was foolish enough to help me survive, then let him deal with it.

  Focus on survival.

  “I also have an ability you don’t have,” Devon pointed out. “I can move around in daylight. Your search is hampered without someone like me, someone who can move around easily in the day.”

  Stefano leered. “We’ve managed for centuries. And we’ve adjusted to the modern world.”

  “You still don’t have the same access I do. You must remain under cover of darkness.”

  “What do you propose?” Stefano asked with an impatient wave.

  “I can start by taking Layla to the bank in the morning. Have her bring ID, talk to a representative in person. They’re much more likely to give information to someone who can prove who she is in person rather than someone whose account is locked and possibly compromised.”

  Stefano tapped his fingers on his thigh as he appeared to consider Devon’s proposal.

  “What’s it going to be, Stefano?” Devon prodded. “Are you going to let us look for your money? Or just torment a young woman who has no idea where it is? One is more productive than the other. And it requires less effort on your part.”

  Stefano grimaced and gave a quick wave. “Fine. Go off on your little adventure then. Twenty-four hours. And if you’re not back and are doing this as some ruse to cheat me, I will hire an army of bounty hunters to track the two of you down and kill you upon sight.”

  “Thank you, Stefano.” I focused on the chance to survive a little longer rather than the promised death threat.

  “Come on.” Devon took my arm and steered me out of the room.

  We left Stefano’s house. I wanted to scream my joy into the night.

  I turned to Devon, threw my arms around his neck and said, “Thank you!”

  He laughed. “I should save your life more often. You’re much nicer.”

  As we hurried to the car, I asked, “Why did you do that?”

  He shrugged. His uncommunicative responses brought up more questions. I would have thought he’d use this opening to reveal why he had the sudden change of heart, or mind, or whatever reasoning it was that had him working with me instead of against me.

  After several moments, he replied, “I didn’t like him threatening you. And I didn’t like seeing you scared.”

  His expression indicated he was as perplexed about his actions as I was.

  “What’s our first step?” I asked.

  “I don’t have a plan besides going to the bank tomorrow. Do you have any ideas?”

  “Um, no.”

  Our eyes locked.

  What the hell do we do now?

  On the drive away from Stefano’s, I asked Devon, “Did you finally realize I’m innocent?”

  “No.” Another one-word reply. He was driving me nuts with these responses.

  “You do believe me though, right? I didn’t steal anything from Stefano.”

  “No. I think you took the painting.”

  What? “Then why would you help me?”

  “Not sure really. Maybe you realized you made a mistake.”

  “Devon, I don’t know what the hell is going on. Now the account is locked for security reasons and I don’t know why.”

  “I do.”

  “How?”

  He glanced at me and smirked. “I’m the one who locked it.”

  I stared at him again. This shifter was full of surprises, all which led to more questions. “Why would you lock my account?”

  “Because while I was tracking you down, I discovered that a good chunk of money had been transferred in there. Stefano hadn’t hired me to find the painting or the money, just you. He was convinced that finding you would lead him to what was stolen. I like to think ahead. I had that info in my back pocket in case I wanted to continue with the job and ask for more money to do so.” He grunted. “I’m not sure why I offered to do so for free.”

  Neither did I. “You found money in my account?”

  “Five million incriminating goddamn pounds, but now it’s gone.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but didn’t know where exactly to start. “Five million pounds went into my account? By who? And where did it go?”

  “Save the innocent act for Stefano, sweetheart.” He arched a brow and then turned his attention back to the road. “You should be the one answering questions, not asking them.”

  “How did you find all this out? Are you hacking into all my personal affairs?”

  “How many times do I have to tell you this, my dear? It’s what I do. I’m a bounty hunter, I have connections, and I’m good with computers.”

  What the hell was going on? Why would all this money pass into and out of my account? I didn’t like where this trail was heading. “Where’s the money now?”

  “That is the question I planned to ask you.”

  “I don’t know! I don’t even know how it got in there to begin with.”

  Devon made a sound of disbelief.

  “Don’t do that,” I said. “If you think I’m guilty of stealing the money, why would you help me?”

  “It’s not my job to judge or take sides, but to find people or things. Maybe I’m curious. Maybe I want to know what happened and how you pulled it off.”

  When we stopped at a red light, he turned to me. “Or maybe you do something to me, Layla Costa.
Something I don’t even understand myself.”

  The intensity in his dark gaze reminded me of when we’d had sex and sent a bolt of heat through me. I forced myself to ignore it.

  “For the last time, Devon, I didn’t steal from Stefano! And I had no idea until two goddamn minutes ago that so much money was ever in my bank account. If I did, don’t you think I would have used some when I was on the run? I’m sure with your Sherlock Holmes computer shit you must have realized I never even logged into an ATM since I left. Trust me, I could have used some money along the way.”

  Devon eyed me with amusement. “Or maybe Stefano is right, and you’re smarter and much more calculating than either of us realize.”

  “Piss off, Devon! If you’re not here to help me, but just to satisfy some freakish curiosity, go the fuck to hell! I have twenty-four hours to figure out what happened before I wind up as ashes and I don’t need to waste it on someone who’s just here to watch my downfall.”

  When the light turned green, Devon resumed driving. “Hey, calm down, sweetheart. I’m not here to watch you go down. I said I’d help you because I want to help you. So, stop overreacting like some ungrateful brat and tell me what really happened.”

  Trying to calm my overwhelming emotions, I took three deep breaths. They were a vestige of being a human that didn’t have any physiological effect on vampires, but they still worked psychologically, like a placebo effect. “I don’t know. If you’re such a computer whiz, can’t you figure it out?”

  “I can have leads try to trace where the money went. It gets more complicated the farther you get from the source.”

  “Then why don’t you start there?” I said, struggling to keep my voice level. “Can you figure out who transferred the money if it wasn’t me?”

  “I can probably determine which computer was used for it.”

  “Then do that, Devon. Please.”

  “Fine.” His face was unreadable as he stared ahead at the road.

  “I’m sorry I overreacted. It’s hard not to be emotional when you’re counting down the hours until you might be killed.”

  He reached over and patted my thigh. When he added a devastating grin, a bolt of awareness shook me. What the fuck was going on? How did we end up in this situation, and was there any way out of it?

  “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” He pulled his hand away. “I said I’d help you and I will. Now while I drive us back to my flat, tell me about this painting.”

  Joey

  When the PI, Jack Westcott, called me the next morning, my pulse shot up. “Any updates?”

  “First up, Angelica Blackwell is not her real name.”

  “What?”

  “It’s an alias.”

  That wasn’t her real name? “Who is she then?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  While I wrestled with that, ideas tumbled in my mind. Why did she create an alias? Was it like a stage name, or something more? “Anything else?”

  “I went to that club in Cat’s Cove last night,” he said. “And I talked to the bouncers, the bartenders, the bar backs, the DJ, the manager, and even the owner. I spoke to some regulars who were there the night your friend disappeared.”

  “And?”

  “They claim to not have any security footage. The bouncer at the door was the one I was most interested in since he was probably the last person to see her leave the club. He’s quite positive that she didn’t come back in, but he wouldn’t swear to it one hundred percent because of all the foot traffic in and out. But comparing his account with others in the club, I think it’s pretty safe to say she didn’t return.”

  I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it incredulously. I knew all this. I told him last night. Was I really paying this guy to repeat what I’d told him? Best not to jump in. I put the phone back to my ear.

  He continued, “Everyone remembers seeing Angelica that night, naturally, because she was the singer, but few remember seeing her after the show. The bartender said the band members came to get a drink after the set and that Angelica was talking to some fans. The bouncer said he last saw her talking with that guy, which confirmed the story you told me. Nobody seemed to know who he was, although he left an impression on the ladies. He wasn’t a regular.”

  “Yes, I know most of this already. Do you have anything new to tell me?”

  “I just did. The last person we saw her with was this guy. We need to figure out who he is and talk to him.”

  “How are we going to do that?”

  “That’s where you come in.”

  “How?”

  “You saw this guy. In fact, it sounds like you got a close enough look at his face, his body type and his car. So why don’t you give me a description of what he looks like, any distinguishing things about him, what type of car he drove and so on.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said, trying to picture this guy’s face in my mind. I remembered him talking to Angelica, which ignited my temper. If he had anything to do with her disappearing… No, I had to focus on what the PI wanted. My temper and my jealousy wouldn’t help anything right now, but a description would. “Let me think,” I said, forcing thoughts of retribution out of my mind. Yes, there was the possibility that he wasn’t involved, but right now, pegging Angelica’s disappearance on him was all I had to keep going.

  “He’s about my height, maybe an inch or so taller, so I’d guess he’s about 6’ 2”. His head was shaved, and he had facial hair. He’s a white dude, but he’s not pale white. He had a more medium complexion, like he had a tan or something. And he had a ton of tattoos on his arms.”

  “Of what?”

  “Tribal ones. Some animals; I think a lion. I didn’t pay close attention to them.”

  “This is good. What about his eyes?”

  “I don’t know what color they were. It’s hard to notice stuff like that in a dark club. But I think they were lighter. There was something frosty about them, like they were cold or something. Almost inhuman.”

  “Inhuman?”

  “I don’t know why I said that, it’s probably just my prejudices against this guy. I didn’t like how he looked at Angelica. I might be a jealous freak, but it felt like there was something—not right about it—almost predatory.”

  “Predatory, that’s good. Can you try to narrow it down for me? Did he have the hungry look of a man trying to pick up a pretty woman? Or a colder look of someone up to no good?”

  How could I place my finger on it? I stood up and paced around my apartment. “I don’t know exactly. But now that you say that, I’d guess it could be either. Or maybe both.”

  “Hmm.” He paused. “Let’s move on. What about the rest of his features? His nose, his lips, his face shape. Facial hair.”

  “He had a normal face shape. I don’t know how else to describe it. He was a big dude. All muscles.”

  “How big would you say?”

  “Like I said, over six feet, but jacked. The broad shoulders and chest of a meathead.”

  “Okay, this is good. What about his other features?”

  “Normal nose and mouth, I guess. I didn’t study them too much. I mean he’s a dude. I was eying him more to see if I had to kick his ass, not to see how good-looking he was.”

  “I understand,” he said. “I’m just trying to get as much information as I can. What about his ears? You said he shaved his head. Were his ears more pronounced in any way?”

  “Nah, nothing that stands out. Nothing like elves from Lord of the Rings or anything. Just normal ears.”

  “Facial hair?”

  “A trimmed beard.”

  “And his clothing?”

  “I didn’t really pay attention to what he was wearing. Guys don’t usually check on other guys’ fashion choices, you know what I mean?”

  “Nothing that stood out, right?”

  “No, man.”

  “Last question, his car. What did you notice about it?”

  “It was a black Nissan. One of
the newer models.”

  “Any chance you caught the license plate?”

  “No, I wish. I was focused on looking for Angelica, seeing if she was in the car with him. When I didn’t see her in there, I was a little relieved. And he drove by too quickly.”

  “All right, good. I’m going to do some more poking around, and I’ll get back in touch when I have any more questions or some news.”

  “How many hours do I have left?”

  “I don’t know offhand. We’ll discuss that again when time’s running out.”

  Hopefully, Angelica showed up safe and sound in the meantime before I ended up broke. So far, I didn’t see how this guy was of any use to me since he hadn’t told me much more than I already knew. But then again, I’d rather he was out looking for Angelica than not. I was already halfway to crazy worrying about her as it was.

  Layla

  “Why are we going back to your place?” I asked Devon.

  “To start our search for the money and painting.” Devon ground his teeth.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re stalling. Tell me about the damn painting.”

  “Okay, okay.” I sat back in the passenger seat and stared at the winding road ahead, picturing the painting. “It’s a vibrant, colorful abstract painting. I’m not usually into that, but there’s something so poignant about this painting that it just reaches out to you and pulls you in.”

  “How?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. But the first day I went to Stefano’s, it captivated me. So many rich, dark colors. It’s intense. Parts of it were painted in blood.”

  Devon made a sound of disgust. “Who would do that?”

  “A vampire.”

  “Oh, of course,” Devon said, not veiling the sarcasm. “Naturally.”

  “Do you want to hear about it or not?” I snapped.

  “I do.” Devon’s jaw twitched. “Go on.”

  “How Stefano explained it to me was that it was painted by an artist named Marcellus who lived in Venice centuries ago. He was a promising painter as a human and once he became a vampire, became a brilliant one. He fell in love with a human named Diana. He wanted to make Diana immortal, so they could be together forever, but Diana wasn’t sure. She wanted more time to consider. She said there was no rush. But then there was a robbery at her parents’ villa. Diana was raped and murdered. Marcellus found her body and went mad with anguish. He locked himself away in his room with Diana’s body and expressed his grief through his art. He poured himself into this painting—all the hopes and dreams broken. You can make out an abstract shape of a heart amid the other strokes. And he is said to have painted it with both his and Diana’s blood. He left a suicide note with the painting for other vampires to find. It read, ‘Our blood bonded, our hearts now one, our love eternal.’”